Capital Offense

by Kathleen Antrim

But high-risk investigative journalism coursed through his veins, the essence of who he’d become as a man. Had he sold out? Or had he grown up? As his father insisted.

  Jack ignored the voices of the men and women around him. Had he made the right decision to return to the United States and a safer way of living? Granted, he was sick of the loneliness and he wanted a family, but it wasn’t as if the love of his life waited for him. In fact, he hadn’t had a real date in six months.

  “Hey. Rudly, what are you doin‘ here?”

  Thoughts broken, Jack turned toward the voice of Sam Hutton, another reporter and an old friend. “Just getting a story like everybody else.”

  “I thought you were off fightin‘ the brave fight as a foreign correspondent. You know, hardcore news, war zones, dictators, the real stuff. This seems a little tame for you. Who clipped your wings?”

  At Jack’s glare. Sam burst out laughing, then said. “You don’t look like a happy camper, buddy. What’s the deal?”

  “I’ve decided to focus on domestic issues and stick closer to home. I’m sick of having bullets whiz past my head.”

  “Doesn’t sound like the Jack Rudly I know.”

  Jack shrugged.

  “So, the rumors are true. You left Associated Press and joined Today.”

  “Don’t give me that rumor crap. Sam.” Jack broke into a smile. “You probably knew before I did that Today was going to make me an offer. Shit, with your sources, you probably know how much I make, and how many tax deductions I take.”

  “I appreciate the compliment, but you give me too much credit. The question is… will you still talk with the rest of us now that you’ve hit the big time?”

  Jack’s face grew red. “Knock it off, Sam.”

  “All right, all right. How long have you been with them?”

  “What’s today? November filth?”

  “Yup.”

  “One month exactly.” Jack said.

  “And you’ve already rotated into the tight pool. I’m impressed.”

  “Don’t be. Today was slotted for the spot.”

  “Well. I suppose the rest of us can go home,” Sam said.

  “Why? Afraid of the competition?”

  “Damn right I am. Your reputation precedes you.”

  SEVENTEEN

  “I can’t. I can’t!” Sobs overtook Warner as he stared at the hole the bullet bored through the floor. He shoved the gun back into the safe, slammed the door, and leaned heavily against the wall.

  Troopers, Harry Masterson and Sammy Kelly, burst into the room. “Are you all right sir?”

  “Warner, what happened?” Carolyn ran through the doorway, fear and concern on her face.

  “It was just an accident. Nothing serious. I need a drink,” Warner said. My God, he thought, I’m pathetic. I didn’t even have the balls to end the pain. “Where’s the bourbon?” He spun around and reached for a fifth on a nearby shelf.

  “We heard a shot, sir,” Harry said.

  “Shit, the bottle’s empty. There must be another one around here somewhere.” Warner waved them away.

  Carolyn turned to Harry and Sammy. “You can go. It looks as if everything’s fine.”

  Harry gave Carolyn a doubtful look.

  “It’s fine, Harry. Just go. I want to talk to Warner alone.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Harry said, and the two of them departed.

  “What’s going on?” Carolyn asked. “Why’d you have a gun out?”

  Warner stared at her. There was so much he wanted to say. So much to apologize for, but the words wouldn’t come. They were stuck somewhere between his pride and his fear.

  Silence hung between them.

  Carolyn, her expression pained, turned and walked out of the room.

  Warner watched her departure. He looked up at the bookshelves and old brown paneling that lined the walls of the study. At one end of the room was a novelty bar made from a globe. Warner walked over to it, then pressed a hidden button. The continents north of the equator lifted, exposing a hidden storage area for bottles of booze.

  Warner poured himself a Jack Daniels, tossed it back, and felt the burning relief immediately. Hell, just holding the bottle in his hand made him feel better. He clutched it to his chest, like a life preserver destined to save him from the rough seas of years of rejection and isolation. He took several more hits off the bottle. A few minutes later, he floated into a zone of numbed confidence. He cared less about Edmund’s reactions, and grew self-assured regarding his relationship with Carolyn.

  He set the precious bottle down, then mopped his face with the back of his sleeve. Thank God for good whiskey, he grinned.

  He had to find Carolyn, had to reason with her. Her divorce announcement was ridiculous. She needed him. Her dreams of judicial and social reform were too important to her. Damn, he shouldn’t have let her leave the study without an explanation and an apology. He’d seen the concern on her face. She still loved him, he was sure of it. She’d give him a second chance, and together they would make things right. Shoulders back, head high, Warner forged his way down the hall of the mansion to her office.

  Carolyn was on the phone when Warner walked in. “I’ll have to call you back,” she said, hanging up.

  “Who was that?” Warner asked.

  “Do you want something?” Carolyn countered, standing.

  “Carolyn, I know we’ve had a rough couple of years. And I admit that some of it was my fault. I’m really sorry for that, but I believe that we can put all that behind us now and start over. I’m willing to try if you are.” He reached a hand out to her.

  Carolyn’s eyes widened, as she came out from behind her desk. “Who in the hell do you think you are?”

  Stunned, he dropped his hand to his side.

  “Do you really believe that you can inflict a life of hell on me and then just waltz in here with your pitiful excuse of an apology, and I’ll just come running into your arms?” Carolyn’s voice rose. “How convenient for you. Now that your life is in the gutter, you’ve finally found it in your heart to forgive me and start over.” Her words trembled with rage and hurt.

  “I loved you, Warner. I loved you with all my heart, and you took that love and stomped all over it – all because of a situation you refused to understand, refused to forgive. And now you have the nerve to ask me for forgiveness.”

  She took a step back from him. “You deliberately set out to hurt me. You didn’t make a mistake, like I did. Your betrayal was intentional, and designed specifically to humiliate me. And I’m supposed to forgive you? To trust you? Are you crazy?”

  He winced. “Please. Carolyn. I couldn’t help myself. I’ll do anything you ask. Please, we need each other…”

  “Shut up.” She pressed her hands to her ears. “I’ve heard enough. More than enough. Get out of my office. Get out.”

  Warner slouched briefly against the doorframe, steadied himself, then staggered out of the room and back down the hallway. He needed another shot of Jack Daniels.

  ***

  Carolyn folded into her chair, and turned to look at the now empty doorway. She didn’t know where the knowledge had come from, but suddenly she’d understood that she couldn’t give in to him. He needed to believe that their marriage was over. Otherwise, she’d always be a victim to his bidding.

  Pulling her knees up to her chest, she hugged them tightly, as years of pent-up frustration overflowed with her tears. Carolyn didn’t know how long she sat there crying, but when she rose from her chair her legs were stiff and her knuckles white from tightly gripping her legs. She walked over to the window, staring without really seeing out across the lawn.

  If he still loved her, then things would be different. But he’d never mentioned love, just need. Maybe she was destined to a life without love, but that didn’t mean she had to give up her ambitions. Damn him!

  Their political lives were what mattered now – the only thing, that she could count on.

  She picked up her note pad and rev
iewed her notes. Their national positioning was good, but only if they could retake the senatorial seat in the next election.

  Carolyn thought again about Warner. She would help him resurrect his career, and, in doing so, she would facilitate her own goals of reform. It wasn’t the life she’d envisioned on her wedding day, but it was a life she understood and could be proud of. Compromise, she thought, life was about compromise.

  ***

  Warner woke the next morning to the sound of pounding. He couldn’t tell if it came from inside or outside of his head. The pain in his temples throbbed, and his body responded as if he were underwater.

  He opened his eyes, squinting to focus. Then he realized that the noise came from a downpour striking the living room windows, and that he was lying on the couch.

  Memories flooded him, and the weight of failure crushed down upon his chest. He drew in a deep breath against the oppressive sensation.

  Warner pushed himself up to a seated position when Carolyn walked into the room.

  “You look awful,” she said.

  Warner stared at her.

  “Up to a conversation this morning, or are you too tired?”

  His mind slogged through the alcohol induced cobwebs attempting to process her mood and intent.

  She laughed ruefully.

  If there were a chance she might change her mind, then he would speak to her no matter how bad he felt. “I’m fine.”

  Carolyn approached him. She wore a thigh length cardigan, a cream turtleneck, and pleated, navy wool pants. Her hands were jammed into the pockets of her sweater.

  Chanel No. 5 perfume wafted to him. He glanced at the window, hungry for fresh air. His ears rang, and he felt light headed. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Our divorce.”

  Warner’s heart sank. “I was hoping you might reconsider.”

  “We both know I can do fine on my own. I have a promising law career ahead of me, and you threw away your future.”

  “Edmund will never allow this.” He stood, moving to her.

  “Do you think your father really cares what happens to us now? He’ll be looking for another political horse to run. You’re out. We’re both out.”

  “That’s why we need to stick together. We can do it without him. This time, it’ll be different. I’ll be different. I promise.”

  “I may be a slow learner, but I’ve no wish to continue to play the fool.”

  Warner placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m really sorry for all I’ve done to you. If you’ll give me a chance. I promise to make it up. And – I’ll listen to you.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Carolyn pulled away, resisting the tug on her heart, the instinct that urged her to surrender. “You don’t know how to listen. You’ve proven that.”

  Encouraged by the soft expression that flashed briefly in her eyes, he continued. “Please. I’ll agree to anything.”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Come on. Carolyn. What do you really have to lose? We’re both at the bottom. Don’t give up now. Not now. Not when we can start fresh.”

  She laughed wryly. “Start fresh?”

  He leaned toward her, nodding.

  She sat in the nearest chair, her hands still tucked into her sweater pockets. Uncertainty and fear rose in her throat, making her question her own plan. She shoved the feeling aside. This was about survival. In the courtroom, she fought to empower her clients with the courage to stand up for themselves – to face the truth. Until now, she hadn’t taken her own advice. She’d been the embodiment of everything she claimed to despise in other women – weak.

  “If we’re going to make another senatorial run, I want all the facts.” Carolyn said. “I can deal with anything as long as I’m prepared. I don’t want any surprises derailing the next campaign. So, now’s your chance, tell it all. Can you handle that?” She braced herself.

  “Are you sure?” Warner asked.

  “If you want a fresh start, as you claim, then spill it.”

  “Where do you want me to start?”

  “At the beginning.”

  His affair began shortly after he’d learned of her abortion. “I admit I wanted to hurt you. I hurt so much, myself. All I felt was rage and pain, day after day. I needed a distraction. I met her while flying to D.C.” Warner began to pace.

  He met Carolyn’s gaze. “Her name’s Cindy. She’s a flight attendant. She’s based out of D.C, but spends a lot of time in Missouri. Her family’s here. She’s not what you’d think, she’s a friend. I hope you can understand this, but I felt lost. I needed someone to confide in, someone to love me.”

  I wanted to love you, Carolyn thought. I wanted to be there for you. But she understood his pain. She glanced out the window, trying to contain her own pain. “Do you love this woman?” She looked back at him.

  Warner stopped pacing and made his way to the couch. He swallowed hard, his face glowing gray in color, perspiration beading above his upper lip. She could see the muscles working in his jaw as he clenched his teeth.

  His silence screamed at Carolyn.

  “I don’t know.” He hesitated. “I guess not enough. I’m not willing to lose you over her. I’m not willing to toss away my career. Maybe that makes me a cold son of a bitch, but I’m trying to be honest.”

  Warner slouched against the couch cushions. “You’re a beautiful woman. Carolyn. I mean that. But you have to understand, I was so devastated by the abortion I couldn’t… respond sexually to you. I wish I could but I can’t. I needed to find a release somewhere, to feel like a man again. I found it with Cindy.”

  Carolyn nodded, choking back her own grief. Emotionally she didn’t want to understand, it hurt far too much. But intellectually his explanation made sense.

  “I want to make this work. Please be honest with me. Have I ruined any chance of reconciliation?”

  “I won’t deny that this hurts me – hurts horribly. But I can’t change it. If I could I would.” Carolyn took a deep breath and stood. “We both want the same things. I have dreams of reform and you have aspirations for the White House. We make a good team, professionally speaking. So, under my terms. I’ll continue our marriage.”

  “What are your terms?”

  “First, you’ll give up the other woman. I’m not willing to be humiliated any longer.”

  Warner nodded.

  “Second, I’m an equal partner. I direct your career, the campaigns, and help decide policy. If at any point, I don’t feel you’re living up to your end of the bargain – it’s finished. I walk. I’ll divorce you, and your political career will be over.” She didn’t need to tell him that as a successful prosecutor, she could pursue a lesser political career on her own.

  “And lastly, your father is out. I never want to deal with, or even see, him again. In fact, I don’t even want his name mentioned in my presence.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  She couldn’t bring herself to answer him. “If you want this to work, you agree to my terms.”

  “Fine, fine.” He held his palms in the air, as if to surrender. “Your terms, Carolyn.”

  Right now, six years seemed like an eternity, but she knew the election would come all too soon. An election that Warner had better win, or they’d both suffer the consequences.

  EIGHTEEN

  May, 1993 – Jefferson City, Missouri

  Monday morning, Carolyn arrived at the courthouse well before seven. Down the hallway, she could see light shining through the doorway of Mark’s office. Their one night stand, over two years ago, still hung between them. Every now and then, Mark brought up his love and desire for her, which strained their friendship. And even though she refused to sleep with him, he remained a close friend and confidant. She wondered if the depth of their trust came from their intimacy, or a shared secret that could harm them both.

  Every time she allowed herself serious thought on the subject, she was filled with conflicting emotions. Mark presented the only light and
warmth in her life. Her logical mind gave her a multitude of reasons justifying an affair.

  Although they’d reached a truce, Warner never touched her. But adultery still felt wrong.

  “How are things going?” Carolyn asked.

  Mark met her gaze. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Sorry.” She took a seat across from him. “I was wondering if you could help me with a project.”

  “What type of project?”

  “I’ll go into more detail later, but let’s just say we’re going to need to add a few names to our campaign payroll. Edmund once gave me a lead on some private investigators. I think it’s time we employ them. I’ve built up a little nest egg with some investments that can be used to fund them, for now.”

  “What do you need investigators for?”

  “You know, Mark, here in Missouri the good-old-boys run the show. And you also know, better than I how they love to hunt. Well, I’m sick of playing the part of the hunted. It’s time I turned the tables and bought myself some ammunition.” Carolyn gave him a wink, then turned and walked out of his office.

  ***

  Mark watched Carolyn leave and listened to her footfalls recede down the corridor outside of his office. Then he picked up the phone and dialed a number he’d recently memorized, the office of Edmund Lane.

  Edmund answered on the first ring.

  “Is your offer still good?” Mark asked. Six months earlier, Edmund had approached him regarding the creation of an alliance of influential men who’d work to put Warner in the White House. Mark was flattered to be included in this elite group. Edmund referred to their organization as the “Council,” and enticed Mark with promises of a prominent future in Washington. D.C.

  “Does a birddog hunt? Of course, my offer stands,” Edmund said. “You help put Warner in the White House, and the Council will take real good care of you.”

  “What can I expect?”

  “Depends on what you got to give, son.”

  “Fair enough,” Mark said. “Do Carolyn’s plans qualify for a Cabinet post?”